About a Dragon

Take deep slow breaths,” it told her. “It will calm you.” Calm her? Slow breaths? Instead she sucked in a breath to tell it to go to hell, but ended up sending her late-night snack spewing across the dragon’s foot. Staring down, it muttered, “Oh, that’s just vile.” Talaith’s eyes narrowed and suddenly she found her voice. “And yet, I feel remarkably better,” she sneered.

This wasn’t what she expected. Never, in her wildest dreams. This... this was the Blood Queen of Garbhán Isle? Scourge of the Madron lands? Destroyer of Villages? Demon Killer of Women and Children? She who had blood pacts with the darkest of gods? This was Annwyl the Bloody? Talaith watched, fascinated, as Annwyl held onto Morfyd the Witch’s wrists. Morfyd — the Black Witch of Despair, Killer of the Innocent, Annihilator of Souls, and all around Mad Witch of Garbhán Isle or so she was called on the Madron lands — had actually tried to sneak up on Annwyl to put ointment on the nasty wound the queen had across her face. But as soon as the warrior saw her, she squealed and grabbed hold of her. Now Annwyl lay on her back, Morfyd over her, trying her best to get Annwyl to stop being a ten year old. “If you just let me—” “No! Get that centaur shit away from me, you demon bitch!” “Annwyl, I’m not letting you go home to my brother looking like that. You look horrific.” “He’ll have to love me in spite of it. Now get off!” ... “Ow!” “Crybaby.” No, this isn’t what Talaith expected. Annwyl the Blood Queen was supposed to be a vicious, uncaring warrior bent on revenge and power. She let her elite guard rape and and pillage wherever they went, and she used babies as target practice while their mothers watched in horror. That’s what she was supposed to be and that’s what Talaith expected to find. Instead, she found Annwyl. Just Annwyl. A warrior who spent most of her resting time reading or mooning over her consort. She was silly, charming, very funny, and fiercely protective of everyone. Her elite guard, all handpicked by Annwyl, were sweet, vicious fighters and blindingly loyal to their queen.

Fighting her smile, his sister reached over and ran her hand through his hair. “That, my sweet brother, is called heartbreak.” He glanced down at his chest. “Will that be a physical deformity?

A bored Gwenvael is an entire town destroyed accidently.

He looked like you ripped his heart out of his chest, threw it to the ground, and stomped all over it while singing a jaunty tune.” Annwyl shrugged at Morfyd’s bemused expression. “I might have seen that look before on his brother.” “Perhaps when you stabbed our father?” Annwyl laughed. “No. Then he just looked proud.

Husband?” “Aye. Husband.” “The slow-witted one that’s been following you? I thought he was your servant.

She’d left him. Without a word. Without a thought. She’d left him and now he had feelings. For that alone, he’d never forgive her.

You can stick your questions up your ass.” He slammed his tail in front of her. “I don’t think I heard you, little witch.” “You heard me just fine and stop threatening me with that thing!” She kicked his tail. By the gods, she was absolutely adorable!

What’s going on?” “Nothing.” She coughed, and released Talaith’s hand. “Except you have some powerful enemies.” “Tell me what I don’t know, witch.” “Powerful enemies who are gods.” For a moment, Annwyl was shocked beyond all reason…then she shrugged. “Now that I think of it—I don’t know why I would be surprised.

Now if you gentlemen,” she looked at Briec, “and whatever you are, will excuse me.

Briec removed his clothes and slipped into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist and snuggling her from behind. “Izzy?” “That’s just ridiculous,” he growled. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It could have been worse. I could have said Gwenvael.” “And forced me to kill my own brother.

Oh, gods. Not the flying!” “I heard you mounted my sister well enough.” “I want you never to make that statement again.

Is there ever a time you’re not an arrogant bastard?” “Is there ever a time you’re not a difficult bitch?” “No.” “Then I guess that makes us perfectly matched, now doesn’t it?

He didn’t even apologize as he sat up, staring down at her. Was he angry? She guessed not when he began to speak to his erection. “I know. I can’t believe she left us like this either. Cruel wench, isn’t she?” After the long, frightening, horrible day she had, this was not remotely how she expected to end it. And, against her will, she smiled. “Look. Now she’s laughing at us.” Desperately fighting a bout of laughter, she ordered, “Stop talking to it.” He shrugged. “Well you won’t talk to him…and he’s feeling awfully lonely. And I think you hurt his feelings.” Then he made it bounce twice in agreement. Talaith covered her face and sighed. What exactly did her mother tell her the seven signs of madness were? Well, a dragon talking to his own shaft had to be one of them.

To be honest, Briec doesn’t consider fights with humans as battles. I think he sees that more as hunting. Or a snack that runs.

You’re too much of a pain in the ass to be pitied.

You ask me if you can eat dinner in your room, but you don’t ask me if you can torture Éibhear to take you flying?” Truly perplexed, Izzy asked softly, “Why would I ask you that?

She snores,” Morfyd warned. “I do no such thing!” Annwyl yelled back. “Like a bull in rutting season.” “When we get back to Garbhán Isle…don’t speak to me.” “Trust me, Annwyl, that will be a pleasure.

How do you live with yourself, Lord Arrogant?” “Very easily, Lady Difficult. I find myself quite charming.

My husband tried to have me burned at the stake and you brutalize your brothers on an hourly basis, which makes them not want to be too close to you for very long. What does that tell you, Briec the Arrogant?” “That they’re jealous of our greatness.

I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him yourself.” She sat up enough to look him in the eye. “I am not talking to your…your…” “Mighty throbbing manhood?” “Briec.” “That which brings you much delirious pleasure?” “Briec.” “That which makes you whole?” “Stop it, dragon. You’re making me physically ill.” ... “Ow!” “Be nice, woman. I’m not used to this.” She rubbed her ass and glared at him. “Do that again and you’ll lose that which you believe makes me whole.

You, dragon, are the most—” “Amazing being you’ve ever met.” It wasn’t a question from him. It was a statement. “I was going to say the most arrogant son of a bitch.” He blinked. “Well that’s rude.

I’ve enjoyed our conversation, knight. It’s been nice talking to someone who can—” “Create full and complete sentences?” That grin returned and, for a moment, his heart actually stopped beating. “No, it was nice to finally meet someone whose arrogance is only rivaled by the arrogance of the gods.

She hadn’t seen gold since she’d last been to her father’s home, when she would sneak off to meet him. Smiling at the brief memory of, as her mother called him, “the one who gave me the seed which allowed for your presence.

Hello.” She sighed. “Blue. You’re blue.” “I’m Éibhear the Blue.” After eighty-seven years, he never tired of saying that. “Of course you are.

No one referred to Fearghus the Destroyer as the life of anyone’s party.

Lady Talaith. Is that what you’re wearing to dinner tonight?” ... “And exactly when did I start owing you an explanation for anything I do?” “She’s got you there, brother.” The pair turned on him so fast, Gwenvael stumbled back against the window, almost falling out of it. “Don’t bother. I’ll accidentally hit myself in the head later.

Hhhmm. A sense of humor.” He cocked his head to the side. “That actually might annoy me.” She frowned, ignoring the teasing sound to that oh-so-low voice and, with heavy sarcasm answered, “Oh, well, that’ll keep me up nights.

Aren’t you going to hit him?” Éibhear asked. “I don’t feel like it.” “Good gods.” Gwenvael stood. “This is worse than we thought, Éibhear. Up, brother.” Gwenvael grabbed Briec’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “There is only one answer for this.” “Which is?” “Drinking and eating. The whoring we will keep until we get you good and drunk.

She and Brastias walked off, but as soon as Fearghus released Annwyl she yelled after them, “We’ll do our best to be good little monarchs.” Morfyd swung around so fast, fangs showing, that Annwyl stumbled back and then dodged behind Fearghus. “My, aren’t we the brave queen, my love.” “Shut up, mate.